


Ukuror Dar'tome

by Shut-Up-Ginger (Chameowmile)



Series: Fox Trains some Shinies [3]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Anti-Clone Prejudice (Star Wars), Blood, Disassociation, Gen, Implications of brainwashing/chip control, Please forgive me I have no idea why this chapter went off the angst deep end, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29552853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chameowmile/pseuds/Shut-Up-Ginger
Summary: Three days into their Spec-Ops training, things still seem pretty slow for the ARC prospects, and the assignments they're getting aren't exactly /special/.So it's only when Echo's unit starts to let their guard down that they discover Coruscant is it's /own/ sort of battleground, and not in a good way, either.
Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox & CC-3636 | Wolffe, CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo & CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives
Series: Fox Trains some Shinies [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123994
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	Ukuror Dar'tome

Fox is missing time again. He wakes, bleary and sore, back in his own bed with no explanation for it. His joints feel painful, but oddly liquid, and threads of pain are fading from his neck, like broken piano strings. He takes a moment to try and orient himself, but it's a slow and slightly disorienting process.

For one, he’s not alone, and for a second he wonders if this _isn’t_ a matter of him having the _usual_ blackout, but rather some drunken tryst he’ll end up regretting for a _different_ reason.

But no, the arm wrapped around his waist is clearly _vod_ , and even if he _were_ into that, there’s no soldier _alive_ who would risk a jaunt with the high commander of the Coruscant guard.

He has a reputation of _infamy_ to uphold.

And _they_ wake far too quickly to be intoxicated, sitting when he stirs, and joking with a familiar shove to the shoulder, “He lives! Are you sore?”

Wolffe.

He almost thinks he’s dreaming for a second, because he hasn’t seen Wolffe in person since… well, at least since he still had two eyes. He looks tired, and not just because he’s technically still half asleep. A bit too pale for his Fox's liking, though that's a natural side effect of spending all your time in _space_ with a helmet crammed over your head.

Fox tries to ease the swimming in his brain, rubbing his eyes as he sits, and grumbles in perfectly _suitable_ annoyance at his batchmate. “What are _you_ doing in here?”

Wolffe's eye is bandaged, where his prosthetic should be, which isn't a good sign. but he just smirks and lies down right beside him. Dragging him into an annoying hug like he's a stuffed toy, and tucking his head beneath his chin. "You’re _sick_ , _vod’ika_ , don’t waste so much energy snarling all the time.”

And Fox debates giving him a headbutt for the teasing, but resists, settling into the annoying hold. The last time he was in this position, he was barely a cadet. Even if his batchmates _weren’t_ scattered across the galaxy back then, he always had a self sufficient streak to uphold, and that kept them at bay. The squeaky wheel gets the grease, and he guesses he never complained enough to get hugs like Ponds.

But this is nice, and the warmth eases some of the aches in his joints, as he tries to reorient his elbows so that he _isn't_ jabbing his brother in the ribs.

It’s a little _too_ nice, actually.

“Why are you here?” He repeats, immensely suspicious that the man _needs_ something. The Wolf-Pack isn't nearly as destructive as Torrent company is, but they still have their fair share of _reports_ that sometimes need doctoring by Fox. Regardless of how many times he says he can't be bought.

“Shore leave.” Comes the obvious response, but that’s not what he meant, and Wolffe knows it. He gives his _vod_ a glare, but the man just grins right back at him in faux innocence. A slightly chipped canine tooth making him wonder if he's still in the habit of _biting_ unfortunate souls. “Can’t a man just visit his _vod’ika_?”

This time he elbows him on purpose. “I’m _older_ than you, quit calling me that!”

“But smaller.” He points out, punctuating this by squeezing him even tighter so that he can barely move, and it’s probably meant to piss him off, but he’s _tired_ , so he just leans into it, accepting his miserable fate as the command track's chew toy. “They _must_ be starving you up here.”

"Not everyone needs to weigh a hundred kilos and cut their body fat to twelve percent.” 

“I dunno, you getting flung off a speeder seems to suggest otherwise.”

“How in the world would-- no, wait, I got _flung off a speeder_?!” Force, that explains so much.

But Wolffe laughs at that, wheezing a merciless, “No-- but you believed it! So tell me, _Fox'ika,_ what the _hell_ is wrong with you? You’ve been fading in and out for _hours_. This isn't exhaustion, and the medics said you aren't sick, so...” he leaves it open ended, quirking an accusatory brow.

Meanwhile Fox tries to escape at that, but Wolffe's strong, and it's not worth the expense of energy just to irritate him. So he relents, and lies back down again. It's not like he's been caught doing something _bad_ , and even if he doesn't _know_ what's wrong with him, it's not like Wolffe is in any position to alert the _chancellor_ to it.

But still. The idea that he's not just the useless _Corrie_ , but the malfunctioning one makes his throat tight, and he snaps, “ _Wolffe._ I’m tired. Why are you here?”

“Let’s _see_." And this time he _actually_ answers. "I needed my eye recalibrated, and while I was in medical, you were brought in unconscious, with no explanation or cause. So forgive me for trying to get to the bottom of this.”

Oh great, so Stone’s finally gone and tazed him after months of threatening it. That’s wonderful.

He extricates himself from Wolffe’s hold finally, like a particularly squirmy Tooka, and stumbles off the bed in clumsy escape. But it’s not very intimidating, and he hates the smile his brother is giving him, like he knows it’s not gonna be long before he’s out of breath again and has to sit back down. Within hugging range, of course. 

Fox stamps his foot though, staving the urge off, and trying to ignore the fact he's barefoot and it really holds no impact. “Screw you! I have shinies to train.”

"Oh, do you now? Last I checked you're still a pencil pusher-- not a drill instructor."

Oh _shit_. Pencil pushing. Paperwork. He sits back down, rubbing his head again. "We all have hobbies." a beat. “Force. The chancellor’s gonna have my _head_ on a pike.”

“If you’re being bullied by a little old man for missing a few hours of work, I think we should _really_ reassess your need to weigh a hundred kilos and have a twelve percent BMI.”

“ _Quiet_ .” He snaps, chills running up his spine, like the simple _mention_ of him will summon his ire. “I feel _terrible_.”

“Yeah. Nobody's gotten you to tell them what happened. And no, it wasn’t Stone--so stop saying that.”

Goddamnit.

\--

_Ukuror dar'tome_. Forced separation, usually done between close batchmates like Echo and Fives, to enforce independence and personal growth.

They’ve gone through it a hundred times before, but this one’s hitting Fives harder than most, because they haven’t actually been apart since _Reishi,_ and never really in the field. He was always reassured back in training, because he knew Echo'd be fine, but out here...there's no telling what could happen.

And it’s so weird, because if someone had told Fives even a year ago that he’d be missing his batchmates this much, he’d’ve laughed in their faces. He used to want _nothing_ more than to get away from them, and now he just wishes they were here. 

But they’re not, so he guesses he’s doubled down on his codependency with Echo _since_ then to fill in that gap.

A fact he's only realizing _now_ that they've been apart three days.

At the moment, Vixen’s trying his best to distract him. Leaning against his shoulder while they walk the lower levels of Coruscant, and saying, oh so casually, “This should be a breeze. I’m pretty good at tackling criminals.”

And he gives the guy a playful elbow for that sentiment. “I’m pretty sure we’re _advised_ against tackling people. That’s what the shock-sticks are for.”

“Trust me. If I had to choose between getting shocked, and getting tackled, I’d choose getting tackled _any_ day.”

“Oh yeah, like you've been shocked before.”

His smirk is so obvious in his tone that Fives doesn’t even need to see it to know it's there. “I have! And that means _I_ don't have tp get tazed for this training unit.”

“Get tazed in...we’re getting tazed?!”

_“And_ tear gassed.” He intones. “Have you ever been tear gassed?”

“Yes! Twice.” He squawks, loud enough that Jesse looks over, alerted to the conversation even over his music.

He turns it down after a moment, and mumbles. “What’s going on?”

“Vixen says we’re all getting tazed _and_ tear gassed for training.”

“You didn’t know that?”

And hell, was there some _memo_ he missed?!

Vixen gives a mischievous tilt of his head, body language as close to a fox up to no good as it can possibly get. “Do you think Tal knows we're here yet? We're making a lot of noise."

“You’re the one _responsible_ for all this noise!”

And he barks a laugh, clearly not taking any of this seriously.

They’ve been told by Blue to track down a Master Tal for the _third_ time this week. A petty criminal who keeps getting out of his damn jail cell, but is also pretty much harmless, and mostly just a pain in the neck.

He's also probably _working_ for Blue at this point because of how annoying easy he always is to find, and he seems to think this chase is as funny as the captain does. Usually just walking himself into jail at the end of the day with a promise to see them again soon.

They’re nearing an old Jedi temple when Jesse tosses up a hand, stopping them in their tracks.

He points to a dim alley, and gestures to his visor, indicating it’s picked up some movement.

Vixen, the designated _leader_ of the group, calls out, “Master Tal, we have you surrounded!”

And they hear his laugh before they see him, a cloaked figure stepping out just moments later. “Oh, you do, do you? I think you’re forgetting we’ve met before and that I know there's only three of you.”

He's handsome, dark skinned and mischievous, eyes glittering in the darkness of the area like he's already planned his escape.

Fives doesn’t think he looks like much for a criminal, but he’s fast like a Jedi, and there's still a pretty good chance that he _is_ one, working with the GAR for this training. “Why are you skulking around the temple?” he asks.

“Psh, this is a _Sith_ temple. Don’t get too defensive.”

Then he makes his move, running at Jesse, who yelps, and straight up kicking him in the chest, using it as a ramp to leap off of, and then doing a showy flip overly their frankly pitiful semicircle, like this is the highlight of his week. Then he's off, sprinting into the darkness with a howl of laughter.

Definitely staged, and definitely a Jedi.

Shockingly, Jesse’s the first one up and after him, and Vixen's close behind.

\--

_Galas_ . The absolute _worst_ fate a clone can be subjected to.

Echo had had high hopes for the food, but they’ve been instructed to keep their helmets on around civilians, so now he’s just irritable.

Even _if_ Kevin haspromised they’ll get to eat the leftovers afterwards. They're bored, sleepy, and starving _now_ . They might not even be _awake_ for an afterward! 

1407 is the only one who’s gotten out of wearing his new helmet, purely on a technicality. Because when Kevin threatened to give him a _makeover_ if he didn’t wear it, he took it as an _offer_ , not a challenge.

So yeah, he sort of won that argument, and now his half-dyed hair’s been debrassed a bit, trimmed of its split ends, and smoothed back into tidy pleats that would make senator Amidala jealous. If only because of how practical and modest they are.

As a result,1407’s also the only one in a _remotely_ good mood, because apparently having your hair brushed for an hour is _super_ relaxing, and he got the added bonus of winning an argument against a captain in the process.

Echo can’t say he knows anything about _either_ of those things. Rex can be a real bastard know-it-all.

It makes 1407 look a bit...unfamiliar though. They haven’t been acquainted long, but he’s gotten used to the ratty, scuffed up _vod_ who’s constantly wired to hell. Not this languid cheery caricature of a shiny.

He’s put together, and the fact that they’ve all been given their new PHASE-II armor for the event isn’t helping with the unfamiliarity.

For once, he looks like an _actual_ shiny. They all kind of do, but it’s starkly obvious on 1407, who’s just so _young_ and barely past his youthful softness that it’s honestly unsettling when Echo thinks about what he’s probably been through.

And even weirder to think that Fives and he were in a similar position not too long ago.

Tonight, they’re on hour thirty seven of a two-days-no-sleep stint for part of their training, and since _Echo_ didn’t sleep that first night here, _he's_ actually on his third day.

Stims can do a lot, but he almost fell asleep in the shower anyway, and he _really_ just wants this to be over.

But he’s glad they’re doing _this_ instead of drill. Because their new instructor, Hound, is an absolute hardass and takes no pity on their souls. Not even Richard! And he’s just a poor receptionist.

And yet...ARC training hasn't exactly been living up to his expectations. They haven't learned or done anything special, and he thinks they’re just being lulled into a false sense of security. 

But it could also just be that training has sort of been put on the backburner with the war in full swing, and nobody really knows what to do with them. In any event it's making it feel like he's _not_ earning his spot as an ARC very well.

\--

Fox's glance through his datapad is...disconcerting. It seems his work has all been accounted for, up until this morning, and even his shinies have been shifted into new training schedules, with the recently returned Hound, and the twin shocktrooper captains who work under Stone. 

But...that’s the unsettling part, because there's _three_ days of work here. And the idea that he’s been in a blackout that long is _terrifying_.

Three days. And he has no idea what he’s been up to.

Well, except for shifting around his work, anyway. 

Wolffe makes him eat some food, and continues to press him for answers on _what he's hiding_ , and _why he had to go to the medbay_. But he genuinely doesn't know, and it's starting to get a little frustrating.

\--

It takes a while for Echo to notice, too absorbed by the sights of the dance hall to pay attention.

But 1407 has been getting _a lot_ of stares with his helmet off. Many civilians have never _seen_ a clone’s face before, which is a little ridiculous, considering _these_ civilians are the ones who make the laws that run their lives. But they’re clearly wondering if 1407 really is a clone, or if he’s just in armor for some other reason, sizing up Echo and Richard as well with curious frowns.

But they’re also not being _kind_ about it. Many civilians are under the belief that clones are non-sentient. Mindless drones that do as they’re told, with no deeper emotion or purpose. And once you throw alcohol into that idea, it's a recipe for disaster.

So some of the more aggressive representatives tug at poor 1407’s hair, rendering it ruffled and disheveled by the end of the night, in stark mirror to his rapidly disintegrating good mood. He had energy at the start of the night, but two nights without sleep is _more_ than enough to make a man's mood fragile and unsteady.

He doesn’t fall for any of the goading, thankfully, but _one_ representative goes to trip him, and the motion is enough to imbalance him on his _frankly_ shoddy prosthetic leg, and send him stumbling into a small drink table. Taking _it_ , and Echo out in the process.

But the _real_ tragedy is when the spilled drinks splatter across the watching civilians like blood in a war zone, making Echo, and a few others squawk in horror.

Some people gasp in shock, some run off in a panic to try and salvage their attire, and even more get angry.

Somebody jerks 1407 to his feet before Echo can get them all the heck out of dodge, and they screech at him in an incomprehensible language, both disarming and shrill. 

And he looks fearful. _Genuinely_ so, stumbling back, but unable to free himself without hurting the stranger.

Richard tries to intervene as well now. He’s dealt with enough natborns to know how to approach them, but a _different_ attendee grabs _him_ by the arm, and pulls his helmet off, flinging it aside with a drunken whoop.

“They really _do_ have the same face!”

And _that’s_ the hardest thing for Echo to witness. Because he knows how much Richard _needs_ that helmet to understand the world around him, even when things _haven’t_ gone batshit insane like they’ve decided to now.

And then it's Echo's turn, and he wishes these helmets were magnetically sealed like the old ones are, as he winces against the chandelier light flooding into his eyes and is jerked to his feet like a particularly entertaining zoo animal.

He can’t defend himself against civilians. He knows that much. 

But then somebody shouts, “See if they bleed!”

And he gasps as he’s struck across the face.

\--

Fox is woken by the sound of his datapad pinging an alert, still resting against his chest where he dropped it when he nodded off.

Wolffe flinches awake as well-- still here, apparently, and whines a pitiful, “Shut that thing off. It's late.”

Fox ignores him though, scrubbing his eyes and blearily trying to register what the screen is displaying at him.

It takes a moment to adjust, but when he does, he finds a vivid and disturbing incident report from Captain Kevin.

And well, now he’s just horrified.

\--

Master Tal working with the GAR is confirmed when out of the blue the man gets a holocall during the B team's chase of him and just, ever so casually answers it. Suddenly confronted by Blue-- or maybe it’s Kevin(?), and told that they need a Jedi knight to come and intervene in some incident at a dance hall.

From there, they learn his name is actually Quinlan Vos, and that he’s basically the Jedi equivalent to a spy, who gets on the Corries’ nerves enough to have developed a friendly rivalry with them. Testing their security, while they test _his_ hiding skills.

But when they follow him to the scene of the...incident… it’s already dispersing. A senate gala slowly breaking apart, as drunks and aristocrats wander off into the upper levels of the city, like nothing of interest went down.

Left behind are the few people willing to clean up the mess they’ve left, and some admittedly battered clones.

He doesn’t even recognize them at first, between the new armor and nasty bruises it's like staring at a bunch of strangers, but 1407’s mussed up hair gives it away, and it only takes a couple more seconds to realize who the other two are.

Richard's retrieving his displaced helmet from a few yards away, meanwhile Echo’s sitting with Kevin on the ground, a kerchief pressed to his bleeding nose and some conversation happening between them.

Fives is gone from his side for barely a week, and something like _this_ happens?! How can he protect his brother if they're not together?

\--

Echo had hoped they’d get to see the B team for a little longer, at least long enough to reassure Fives that he's _fine_ , but once news reaches commander Fox, the orders are quick for everyone to get sent back to their barracks, and they're all split up again.

1407 is convinced they’re in trouble. _Big_ trouble, and he’s barely said a word since they got back. Immediately shedding his armor and removing the _few_ remaining braids that have survived this long to make himself unassuming once again.

He’s still visibly anxious though, pacing incessantly, despite the unsettling _creak_ his prosthetic knee has begun to give since the attack, and he’s still covered in blood from where he tried to escape the person holding him, giving the impression he was gonna fight back.

In other words, he’s not doing good, and Echo unfortunately doesn’t have _enough_ experience with this sort of shellshock to even think about addressing it.

He’s not his batchmate, so he’d probably be crossing a boundary if he even tried to comfort him, but he's still a brother, and it's left him in this uneasy state of worry, with no clear path of action to actually resolve it.

Honestly, the same can probably be said for getting punched in the face by a civilian.

After an eternity... of only about five minutes-- the door swings open, and in comes Sergeant _Hound_ , captain Kevin, and a tired looking medic whose name-badge says Patch.

Kevin’s looking a little neurotic at the moment, in his dress greys again, and glancing them all over like he’s afraid he’s going to find somebody missing. But no, they’re all here, and 1407 has gone impossibly still, frozen in the corner like a cornered prey animal. Echo has sympathy, because he probably thinks he's about to get decommissioned. A clone that can't even _stand_ properly isn't worth the trouble.

Except he is, and Echo hates to think of what his old unit must have been like to leave him so...convinced of the contrary.

Hound steps forward, and gestures silently for the medic to attend to 1407. Watching as he breaks away from their group, before saying gruffly, “The captain says nobody fought back. So as long as that’s true, you should all be fine.”

And Echo swallows, but between 1407 who’s despondent, and Richard who’s all but mute, it eventually lands on _him_ to be the one that actually answers.

“Of course we didn’t. They were civilians.”

Hound scoffs at the answer, waving dismissively, “So the law’s determined, anyway. We’ll try and figure out who assaulted you personally, but don’t hold your breaths over it. The only upside is you three don’t have any scars or tattoos to be identified by, so you’re about as anonymous as they can come. This should pass without fanfare.”

It’s a ridiculous weight to have lifted off of his chest, and he can’t help but feel _bitter_. Knowing that they were there to keep those people safe, and in the end got beaten for it.

He doesn’t look Hound directly now, frowning down at the floor in momentary thought, but after a few moments of silence, the sergeant adds, "Commander Fox has been alerted to this incident. We'll see what he decides to do about it in the morning."

And _that's_ not comforting. The high commander of the Coruscant guard is the _last_ person who he wants to see them like this.

**Author's Note:**

> Me: Just gonna write another QUIRKY chapter of Fox trains some shinies, haha  
> My Writing: Hah, no, they're all gonna suffer


End file.
